Gilbert woke up on the recovery ward of the back-street doctors. Filth and empty takeaway wrappers littered the floor.
He was handcuffed to an uncomfortable, threadbare armchair, his feet weighed down by dumbbells. Beside him sat others in a similar predicament, drips hanging from hooks attached to their arms.
Looking down, he saw he too had a cannula attached to his hand. The tube led back to a bag hanging from a stand next to him.
Topping up the bag was a large, haggard-looking doctor.
'Gin' he said, by way of an explanation. 'Keep you hydrated'.